Page 77 of Stick It
“Oh well, that’s okay then,” I snark, running a stressed-out hand through my hair as I pace back and forth.
Dylan has the wherewithal to roll her eyes at me. “Like you don’t play with bruised ribs all the time,” she gripes. She tries again to push herself upright.
“Fucking hell, Hurricane.” Realizing he’s not going to keep her down, Griffin helps lift Dylan to her feet, keeping one arm securely wrapped around her waist. Her face is scrunched in pain, her breathing labored.
“Are we walking or not?” Despite her snark, her face is as white as a ghost, her voice barely audible even though I’m standing right in front of her.
“Fuck no.” I point toward my car. “Get in.” Fetching my keys out of my pocket, I bend down to grab the duffel bag she must have been carrying when she was attacked. Jogging ahead, I open the door while Griffin helps Dylan into the back seat, before getting in with her.I guess he’s coming with us.
Hastily throwing her bag in the trunk, I move around to the driver’s side and climb in behind the wheel, adjusting the rearview mirror so I can keep an eye on her. Reversing out of the space, my attention drops to where her head has fallen back against the headrest, her eyes closed once more. I swallow roughly, hating her pale coloring and the blood staining her skin, before wrenching my gaze away and focusing on the road in front of me as I throw the car into drive.
I keep my speed slow, careful not to jostle her more than necessary, glancing back at her every few seconds as I follow the road back to the house. Each time I do, something in my chest winds tighter, until it feels like I’m going to explode.
Griffin murmurs to her, his words too low for me to hear, but I frown anyway. Since when did they become all buddy-buddy? Griffin’s a lone wolf. He talks the talk, getting on with everyone on the team, but doesn’t go out of his way to make friends. Frankly, beyond hockey, I don’t know a damn thing about him, and I’ve been playing alongside him since freshman year.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel, damn near choking it to death with each little bit of insight I pick up on every time I look at them. How close his face is to hers. His dark expression. The possessiveness in the way he touches her.
A far uglier emotion bubbles to the surface. One that I can’t initially place because I’ve never felt it before, but it boils in my gut, building in my veins. I want to hit the brakes, climb back there, and drag Griffin away from her.
Iwant to be the one touching her like that.
The one reassuring her. Making her feel better.
Iwant her full attention.
And that’s not okay.
I’ve been fighting the same desire since the minute she showed up on my front porch, all wide eyes and long legs, and hair I could picture myself pulling on while I sucked on her skin.
Fuck, man, get it under control!
I sigh in relief when I pull into the driveway, practically diving out of the car in my haste to escape my complicated feelings and convoluted thoughts.
Wrenching the back door open, I carefully help Dylan out of the car.Don’t think about how good she feels pressed against you, I chastise myself when a flare of awareness immediately heats my skin at her proximity.She’s hurting, you twisted fuck!
Battling my body’s reaction to her, I help shuffle her toward the house, Griffin on her other side. The second we step inside, voices explodearound us. Both Ethan and Jax jump to their feet, video game controllers dropped on the coffee table as they approach.
“What the fuck happened?” Ethan storms forward, his eyes wild.
Jax is right on his tail, his eyes wide as they rake over Dylan’s slumped form. “Menace,” he murmurs, before shifting aside. “Get her on the couch. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
He hurries off to the kitchen, and Griffin and I gently lower Dylan onto the sofa. She groans, wincing as she shifts to get herself comfortable—or as comfortable as one can be when their entire body is a giant bruise.
Griffin claims the spot beside her, not leaving an inch of space between them. There’s no way I can sit still right now, so I end up pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table.
Jax returns a moment later, kneeling on the floor in front of her as he opens the first aid kit on the table. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying to her, and that’s when I realize there’s a whooshing in my ears. My heart races as adrenaline thunders through my body.
I swipe my hand through my hair, pulling on the ends. I feel like I can’t breathe as I pace back and forth, unable to take my eyes off her for more than a second.
Ethan steps in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, stopping my pacing. It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me. Shaking my head, I force myself to take a deep breath before blowing it out. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I want to know who did this to her,” he growls, irritation evident in his voice. My gaze flicks back over to Dylan. Jax is inspecting the wound at her temple, dabbing at it with a cotton pad and antiseptic cream.
“Oh.” I quickly recite the whole ordeal for him. The entire time, I’m unable to take my eyes off her. “Shouldn’t we callsomeone?” I say, loud enough to draw Jax’s attention. “A doctor or?—”
“I’m fine,” Dylan grouses, mustering the strength to glare at me as Jax inspects her ribs. For some reason, that settles me more than anything else. I mean, if she’s capable of leveling me with that look, then she can’t be about to die, right?
“Do you know who did this to you?” Ethan demands, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of her. “Did you see their faces?”
